


The Bells

by wingedthing



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedthing/pseuds/wingedthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each sought to protect Azeroth from harm, but one had to fall for the other to succeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bells

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr has shown me that approximately 99.99999% of AUs are shmoopy. That's fine, if that's your thing, but I prefer my AUs to be heartwrenching sobfests, as does my bff, who drew the art that serves as an accompaniment to this piece (shown on her art Tumblr, latinwords.tumblr.com). In that light, I give you "The Bells."

_any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee_

_-_ John Donne

 

Silence fell in the cavern as the drake’s body dropped, his wings enfolding the rest of his form in a protective sort of cocoon that broke apart as he reached the ashy ground, landing with a thundering crash. Anduin’s ears still rang from the sounds of battle, and when the drake didn’t push himself upwards again, the king of Stormwind broke away from the group and staggered towards their quarry, ignoring the concerned protests behind him.

Though the drake’s sides still heaved as it struggled to breathe, he remained motionless, even as Anduin came within speaking distance. His grip on his staff tightened as he saw the grievous wounds in the drake’s flesh, red and gaping.  _I can heal him! I can heal him and everything will be alright_! he thought, but he held back. This was what had to be done. They had all agreed. He couldn’t let sentiment undo the one thing that would end the suffering of so many.

At the same time, he couldn’t force the sentiment away entirely, and his voice was thick as he murmured, “I thought you were different,” to the drake.

The drake opened one eye as he heard Anduin’s voice and rolled his head to the side just enough to look at the king. “Anduin Wrynn,” Wrathion said, in a choked echo of his familiar voice. “Sh-should have known it would be you.”

Anduin clenched his jaw to maintain some semblance of composure. “It was all of us,” he answered.

“But you led them against me.”

“I led them against you, yes.”

“I thought so.” Wrathion sighed through his nose, then let out a gagging cough, blood pooling around his body as he did. “Was I really so like them?” he asked, once he’d recovered. “In the end?”

Anduin started to lie, started to shake his head and reassure the drake that he’d been different in some small, insignificant way, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bodies of Wrathion’s corrupted champions strewn about, the dead and dying of his own army. “Yes,” he answered. “Yes, you were.”

Wrathion sighed again, his eyelids drooping. “I failed, then,” he said. His voice was heavy with resignation. “I did not save or protect Azeroth; I only added to its misery.”

Anduin clenched his jaw again and looked away. “I’m sorry,” he said at last, “that I didn’t intervene sooner. That I didn’t stop you.”

“You think that you could have stopped me?” Wrathion asked, weak laughter causing more blood to spew from his mouth and throat. “Oh, my prince. How naive you are still, though I appreciate the sentiment. What will you do now, now that you’re out of enemies for your crusade?”

“Rebuild.” Anduin’s own voice surprised him with how old it sounded. “Put out the last of your fires, literal and figurative. Pull the world together again. Try to move forward before the next threat arises.”

“So naive,” Wrathion repeated. His eyes fell shut. “Will you do something for me, Anduin Wrynn?”

Anduin stiffened. “I might.”

Wrathion forced one eye open again to meet Anduin’s. “Don’t… remember me as I am now. Remember me as I was… as we were… in Pandaria. When we were friends. Will you do that for me?”

The king’s composure wavered. “Yes,” he said.

“Thank you. You always were my truest champion,” the drake rumbled, almost inaudibly. He sighed again and fell still, the red glow of his eyes cooling though still eerily focused on Anduin, even as he drew his last breath.

_Save him_! something inside of Anduin screamed.  _Save him! You can save him still! Bring him back! Don’t let him die like this_! The king took another step forward and reached a hand towards Wrathion. For a brief moment, his fingers glowed with the beginnings of a prayer of redemption, but he let the light die and instead brushed his fingertips over Wrathion’s eyelids, shutting them.

Behind him, Anduin heard the crowd grow restless. “What are we waiting for?” someone growled. “Let’s cut off the beast’s head and have done with it.”

Anduin stood and turned, walking away from the drake’s corpse, his chin held high. The leaders of his army took this as a signal that they could advance, and they did so with an exultant cry that only grew in volume as they decapitated their quarry. Still, Anduin walked away. He brushed off Lady Jaina’s concerned hand on his shoulder and ignored the triumphant cries of the camps just outside of Wrathion’s former lair. He spoke to no one, instead simply mounting his gryphon and returning to Stormwind’s Cathedral, where he ordered the bells rung to announce their victory over the Black Prince and to mourn those who had fallen in battle and to the dragon’s madness.


End file.
